Love in Thoughts
by tracing-sovereign
Summary: Draco, antares and Blaise journey to a cottage in the countryside. Little do they know that their suicidal vows will lead to absolute destruction...for now, at least.
1. Chapter 1

"I have a WHAT?" Draco choked on his drink.

"A sister," Narcissa repeated calmly.

"I mean, I heard you the first time, but I have a WHAT!" Draco gasped, desperately trying to extract an ice cube from his trachea.

"I don't know what to do," Naricissa said, sighing, and flicking her wand lazily. The ice cube flew in a perfect arc back into Dracos glass.

"Thanks, but no thanks," Draco said, delicately plucking the ice cube from his glass. Narcissa looked at him curiously. "I mean, now that I know where it's been, it's not really s though I want it now, do I?" he continued reasonably.

"Are you talking about the ice cube or your sister?" Narcissa asked in a dangerous tone that could attribute to Professor McGonagall on a bad day.

Draco glanced at his mother's face. "The ice cube," he intoned carefully. "Definitely the ice cube."


	2. Chapter 2

Draco sighed as he observed the warm sunlight for the thousandth time. It streamed through the dusty windows of the train, the shadows it cast jerking along with the movement over the tracks.

Draco, his sister Antares, and a friend of his, Blaise Zabini, were traveling to a house they had rented for a month. They would probably extend the trip, though. Country air will do you good, his mother had said. Or rather, ordered in that bossy way mothers do when they know they're right. He grinned and flinched at the thought of his mother.

For then, the bomb had exploded. A stupid Muggle bomb planted by a stupid Muggle terrorist ahd killed the woman he had loved most.

_Ironic, wasn't it, _Draco thought grimly. His mother spent three fourths of her life hating anything to do with Muggles, then a Muggle explosive murders her.

A man got on at the next station. Three stations later, he got off, to be replaced by a pink-haired woman who got off at the following stop.

_Just like life, _Draco mused. He leaned back and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. This train ride was just like life. People came into it, and then got out. Some stayed longer than others. There were some that stayed the whole way, like Antares and Blaise. Perhaps it was because they were going to the same place. Or perhaps they weren't.

Well, one thing was for sure. Love was like the pink-haired lady. It wasn't worth it. _So symbolic, _he thought bitterly. Love was only a flitting moment in time. His own beloved had only once come to him with open arms. Those three months had been bliss.

Now, in the modern world, going with someone for three months may seem like a long time. But in the long run, it was like a pulsar.

A tinny voice announced their stop. With a quick lance at Blaise and Antares, Draco gathered his things and they walked onto the platform.

The train really as like life, he decided. It was like the cruel world today. Maybe you got off, but it kept going.


	3. Chapter 3

The sun was still warm. _It never ceases in the countryside, does it? _Draco wondered, bouncing precariously along in a little tin bus. It was just the three of them and a little old lady reading an outdated newspaper. He sighed. What a life.

Its not that he didn't like the countryside. Quite the contrary. _It's beautiful, _he observed, watching the scenery skip by. There were long stalks of grass spotted with dandelions. A thick grove of trees beyond whispered in the wind. And the blue sky seemed to sing without a noise, only one lost cloud floating around, lonely. _An outcast cloud, _he thought. _Strangely and highly symbolic. _

Yet, it seemed to be such an embodiment of happiness, even alone. _You know what, that's my problem. I can't be happy alone. I can't be happy. _Draco frowned. _On second thought, I don't think I've ever been happy. Yes, I've had funny, but happiness? _He heard his father's voice echo in his mind.

"A Malfoy is stern, and bears his dignity. He must never show weakness. Not one slip of emotion. Do that again, Draco, cry again, and you shall be cast out of the house. If you cry, you are not a Malfoy."

And he shuddered and clutched his bag to his chest. If his father knew how much crying he did in secret…well, that didn't matter anymore. Draco didn't have parents. Couldn't he do as he pleased? Then his mother's gentle voice floated out of nowhere.

"Treasure joy, Draco. It comes not oft, and when it does come, it nay comes when one is prepared. Indeed, it comes when one is most unprepared."

Was he ready for happiness? If he was ready, it wouldn't come. What did happiness feel like? Did blaise or antares know? Did Dumbledore know, when he was alive?

Did Harry Potter know?


	4. Chapter 4

Upon entering the house, Draco noticed there was a strange smell about it. A sort of woody, earthen smell that made you think of dark woods. "It'll need a bit of cleaning," Antares remarked.

Blaise nodded, looking at Draco, looking at Antares. Just a week out here. Then he could be back to the city, where he belonged.

Climbing up the stairs was a difficult task, considering the luggage they had brought. Heaving the last canvas duffle up the stairs, Draco rolled his eyes. How many times had he told Antares that they did NOT need to bring sheets? Or towels? Or soap?

As soon as the house was cleaned, the sheets on the beds, the towels in the closet and the soaps in their dishes, Draco looked out the window. The sun was setting in a concerto of reds and oranges, indigo and purple flirting with the edges of the sky. He remembered the last sunset he had watched. Ignoring the memories stabbing his insides, he resumed unpacking his clothes. Below, he could hear Antares and Blaise cooking.

These memories were going to eat him alive. _Stop it, _he berated himself mentally. _What are you? _It was going to be a long week. Sighing, he decided to take a nap.


End file.
